Life In Another's Eyes
by BehindTheseWalls
Summary: Éponine joins the barricade in a bid to protect Marius, the events that unfold will alter the lives of Les Amis irrevocably. It contains some elements of the original story but does not pan out the way it does in the original. One sided Éponine/Marius and implied Éponine/Enjolras. Rated T just to be safe!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I wrote this story for my sister as she is a huge E/É fan. I've never posted a fic that wasn't NCIS because, well, I've never thought they were worth reading! I am posting this at the request of my sister and I hope anyone reading it enjoys it. I has not turned out the way I had originally intended it to as I found the direction I wanted to take it just didn't seem to fit and it started almost writing itself in a completely different way than I imagined. Anyway, this is the first chapter and I do hope I managed to get the characterisation at least partically correct!**

* * *

Life in Another's Eyes

She hadn't seen another option, if they were all willing to risk their lives to fight for a cause greater than themselves then she would do it too. Wrapping herself in those bandages had broken her; how could it be fair that in order for him to see her, to really, see her, she had to become someone else? They'd never let her into the barricade if they knew the truth, Marius' shadow was just another distraction from their desire to fight. Twisting a lock of hair that had fallen free, she tucked it beneath the rim of her shabby cap and repositioned her revolutionary pin; it was the only part of her that wasn't covered in years of street filth and grime. She looked at her hands for a moment; her skin was golden brown from a life lived on those rough streets, but to find that you had to look past the engrained dirt and dust that marred her body and permanently festered beneath her fingernails. Her arms, legs and feet were mottled with tiny scars and purple bruises; a reminder of street life and it's cruelty, and then there were the bruises that stung her face whenever her father re-entered her life; a chilling reminder of just how fragile familial ties could be to some people. Marius had never noticed those marks, and that hurt more than the blows that delivered them. Any other guy would want to protect her honour, would want to keep her safe, and would want to touch her in a delicate and gentle manner, kiss away her pain. But then, with skin as dirty as hers, with clothes as ragged and worn, was it really a wonder that he kept her at an arm's length and fell for the bourgeois girl with the perfect hair, the milky skin and the pristine dresses that screamed expense and money?

She stepped out from the building beside the barricade, how quickly they had put it together, how strong and secure it seemed to stand, looming over the dirtied streets of Paris, these men, boys really, they truly believed that this wooden structure would keep them safe from the guards... Well, if they believed it then she would too. Moving along the cobbled stone streets, her bare feet moulded and meshed to the ground below, for the longest time she had gone without shoes and the grazed callouses of her feet no longer felt any pain of the harsh Parisian streets.

"Another body?" She asked of the man she knew to be Courfeyrac; a law student, an Ami and in so many ways the heart of the group of friends who dreamed only of freedom and equality.

"You have come to fight the good fight?" he asked, aiming his gun in her direction, but not in a threatening manner, it seemed this was just a reflex he had picked up from the other men.

"Vive la France!" She chanted with a smile.

"Welcome to the barricade, brother." Courfeyrac nodded and handed her a gun of her own before stepping off to deal with other business.

How easy it was to infiltrate them, it seemed all you needed to be accepted here was a revolutionary pin and a spirit that longed for freedom. The whole band of brothers were in fact a privileged bunch, each of them a college student, each of them coming from great familial wealth, and yet, seeing the injustice on the streets, they had chosen to fight for what the little people needed, the people like her, the everyday Parisians that had so little to call their own.

Carefully she stepped behind the barricade and watched the men as they moved throughout their barracks. They seemed to have no real plan other than instigating the revolution, they were led by an angelic and charming young man, still a boy in features but every part of his speech and his belief could be attributed to manhood. He had the eyes of a person who had slept disturbed for too many nights, rimmed with red yet off set by the crystal blue of his iris'; Enjolras made the ideal leader of the men, a man who had already pledged his life to fight for a cause so much bigger than himself. He turned to look at the new recruit, his eyes bearing down on her, narrowed and cautious, he had little trust in others, despite the great amount required to head off such a mission he had in his hands. His head cocked to one side and she was sure her cover had already been blown, only, nobody knew who she was when she was Éponine, the girl who tagged so loyally behind their friend, there was not a chance they would recognise her as the revolutionary boy she had turned herself into. She gave a brisk nod to Enjolras and he pursed his full lips before nodding back in camaraderie and continuing with his task. Now she was inside, all she had to do was find him, find Marius and keep him safe until this revolution was over.

The barricade was already bustling with men who were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for what it was they believed in. From the outside, she admired their gall, their belief and determination, now she was on the inside she wondered if they were as scared as she, if they truly wanted this life for themselves or if it was the admiration of their fellow peers they sought. Some men wandered around unsure what they were doing, others were born leaders, they took charge and ordered the lowly ones around, directing where reinforcements were required, where food and drink stores should be placed and most importantly of all, where the weapons and ammunition ought to go. She decided she needed to make herself look busy to avoid drawing any unwanted attention to herself.

No sooner had she begun to shift some of the lighter barricade debris that had yet to be afforded a true position, was she beckoned by a tall gentleman with a delicate stance about him. She knew who he was, she had a good knowledge of most of Marius' friends, there was something to be said about being invisible sometimes, and that gave her an upper hand on this task; of that she was sure. This man was Joly, a student of medicine, perhaps the happiest of all of Les Amis despite his continued belief that he had contracted an illness or disease from anyone and everyone he came into contact with.

"A hand to move this?" He asked, signalling to a damaged coffin that had been deplored from the upstairs window of a house. Fragments of wood had splintered all down the left side, a huge crack marred the lid and the groove beaten into the top end upon its landing meant the coffin was no longer an ideal resting place for the dead, although to have any kind of box to house your body in death was a luxury not to be scoffed at nowadays.

"Of course m'sieur." She nodded, attempting to disguise the pitch of her voice and avoid giving the game away so soon. "Where to?" She asked, stooping and slipping her hands beneath the end, feeling the splinters tear at her skin but knowing it would not be fitting to complain; besides, she had dealt with worse, much worse.

"Reinforcement at the side here," Joly explained, heaving the other end of the coffin into the air and beginning to move towards its destination. The sheer weight of the resting place bore down on her, she had not expected something like this to weigh so much; and it occurred to her at that moment, that perhaps it was not the empty donation she had expected it to be, that perhaps whomever had owned this coffin in life was now using it in death. She let the thought leave her mind, she could not afford to think that way, the barricade was sure to bring some bodies and she would have to face them when they occurred, but not before.

"You're a new face," Joly thought aloud. "A new recruit to the movement?"

Éponine nodded. "Came from a barricade across the city," she lied. "Heard this was where those more dedicated were dwelling, some of the others, they liked the idea of revolution but I think when it came down to it, they would not be willing to fight for it." She tried her best to act in a way she believed would keep her from standing out, she knew of how revolution talk excited the boys of the barricade, but she also knew that it was only Enjolras who considered revolution his main and only reason for existence.

"Well, they don't come more dedicated than these." Joly agreed, directing the coffin upright and manoeuvring it into a barren space beside some old furniture. "I'm Joly," he greeted, not holding his hand out to be shaken in fear of the potential health woes that could occur as a result.

"Nicolas." She returned almost as a reflex; it was a name she had not thought of in a long while, a name whose meaning only she knew. It was the name she had given to her youngest brother at birth, before her parents had sold him off like cheap livestock or tacky trinkets. She had cried the day her parents took him away but she told herself it was a better life he was going to, a richer life, a life where the people of the streets repulsed and horrified him; if he ever saw her on the streets and by some familial connection he knew who the sun-kissed girl was to him, she hoped he would turn up his nose in disgust and walk away, because that was the life he deserved.

"Well, when things get rough out there," Joly looked at her with an inherent sadness behind that happy expression. "I wish you good luck." He spoke with honesty before walking away, before she could offer him the sentiments in return.

* * *

Night fell quickly over the barricade, the boys, they may have believed themselves men but to her, they would always be boys, took watch in shifts. Supper had been shared around and while she did not get much in the way of food, it was more than she had eaten in a long time. She felt her bony hips protruding against her shabby clothes and huddled herself in more rags as she felt the chill draw in. While the barricade offered some protection from the eastward wind, it did little to mask the icy air that did filter through the gaps in the wood. Éponine shivered as she stood and slowly moved toward the shelter of an adjacent building; a doorway had been her bed for many a night on the street, it made sense that in a time when she was so far out of her depth, she sought to find familiarity.

Curling herself into the doorway, she drew her knees to her chest and silently hummed a tune she had made up as a child to try and soothe the cries of the brother she had called Jacques but her parents had called leverage. Another baby sold to what she hoped was a better life. There were times she had wondered what made her parents keep her, perhaps her compliance with thievery and scams, the things she had gotten so good at as a child, before her conscience had learned to speak louder than her parents, perhaps that had made them keep her around, whatever it was, she did not thank them for it, the street life had been far better to her.

"Éponine." The sound had been so quiet that she dismissed it as a trick of the wind; it was only when it sounded louder and closer that she opened her eyes and saw him standing there. "Éponine! What you doing 'ere?" His accent had grown so thick, so laced with street talk. Everything about him changed so much each time she saw him, his hair now hung limp and scraggled at his face, dirty blonde in colour, it was unclear whether the dark tones to it were from street filth or natural. He stood a good few inches taller than when she last had seen him atop the elephant statue he called home. "Seriously, they'll go mad, they see you in 'ere, s'a boys only barricade!" He chirped throwing his body to the cold ground beside her.

"That's why I'm dressed like this." She informed him with a smile. "Nicolas." She introduced herself.

"You're 'ere for 'im aren't ya? For Marius?" He asked with a touch of sadness to his tone. He'd easily gotten in with the crowd in the barricade despite being half their age, he was a feisty kid with spirit and great heart, and his small posture and ability to climb and weave through just about anything made him the ideal little spy. His long life on the streets meant he had a penchant for faces and knew an ally from a foe by just a glance.

"It doesn't matter why I'm here," she replied, a little embarrassed that even he could see through her so easily, and crushed that he knew Marius wouldn't care if she was there or not. "Why are you here?" she questioned.

"Showin' 'em what the little people can do!" he beamed. "Get enough of us, s'gotta make a difference." He shrugged his shoulders. "Enjolras says if we show 'em who's boss now, they got no choice but to listen, we'll get what we want."

"What do you want?" Éponine asked.

"To live like the rich people." he said flatly. "Or at least not to have to pick up food what someone else drops."

Éponine thought for a moment, he was a smart boy, he always had been. He'd gotten out of the bad life before it had too big a chance to affect him, he'd chosen the streets because they were better for him, and as sad as it was to admit, he had thrived here.

"You go careful out there Gavroche," she commented as the boy lay his head to her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around him and drew him close, imagining each of the siblings she never had the chance to know in his place; of all her brothers, he was the only one to ever be given a name by his family, he was the only one she was given a chance to love and protect. "Enjolras has a lot of big ideas, you just make sure you don't get caught up any place you shouldn't be."

"Like you?" He grinned and she playfully punched him in the arm as they both laughed before settling down to a slumber on the street, his body leant against hers, cocooning each other together, sharing the same blood and body heat.

* * *

A light rain had drawn in overnight; a part of her couldn't help but believe that the dark tones of the sky were reflecting the upcoming events that this revolution was sure to bring to their lives. She looked over to see that Gavroche had already woken; he was standing at the barricade entrance with Enjolras sharing a crust of bread and laughing. She admired his ability to find fun in all of this; she put it down to his age, this was all just a game for him, she hoped he'd live to see the truth. She stretched out her aching muscles, the longer you slept on the streets the easier it got, she'd never forget the agonising pain that marred her back for days after her first night on the cold, unforgiving pavements. As she stood, the smell of rotting wood and promise of death hung thick in the air, it was a smell she knew would get engrained in her nostrils for the rest of her life; however long that ended up being.

Having gathered herself a little sustenance in the form of a two day old stale pastry she scavenged from the bakery bins, she headed back to the barricade, stopping off to splash the street feeling from her face, using a shallow puddle of collected rainwater that sat atop an empty barrel of a local brewery. She didn't bother to look at her complexion in the reflecting pool of crystalline liquid; what would be the point when no matter how hard she tried, he would never see herself as anything other than his friend, his little errand girl?

"New guy!" His voice resonated through the barricade and immediately people stopped and looked to him; he was their leader, their instigator after all. "Give us a hand moving the ammunition down to the lines? We have word they'll attack today." he spoke.

She gave nothing but a simple nod and hurried off toward the building they had been storing their supplies in since he had planned this whole endeavour.

Climbing the stairs she almost collided with a clumsy member of Les Amis carting a barrel of gunpowder clearly far beyond his strength; an unease to his movements, slow, lumbering, and with that thought she knew exactly whose face was hidden behind that barrel.

"Grantaire..." she whispered, unable to hold the smile that broke across her face.

"Woah, sorry." The man gasped, peering from behind the barrel and as soon as his mouth opened, the smell of stale liquor filled the air. Grantaire had always secretly been one of her favourite members of The ABC, he was cynical and held little to no interest in the politics and democracy that the others were fighting so hard for. No, Grantaire cared truly for only two things in the world, one could be found inside a glass bottle, something he drank routinely as though he could find all answers he sought waiting him at the bottom, the other was leading the revolution he had no preference for. She had watched the way Grantaire had admired Enjolras in much the same way as she did Marius, that was perhaps what made him a kin to her, their shared woe of unrequited love. Only where she could, in theory, someday make Marius see her, there was little Grantaire would ever be able to do to make Enjolras notice him, namely because Enjolras noticed only Patria; France was the only woman in his life, the only thing he would ever love, and she had a suspicion deep down that it was that knowledge that brought the liquor bottle to his lips so freely.

"Can I offer you a hand?" She asked, wrapping her agile fingers beneath one side of the barrel and helping to lug it down the stairs.

"Thanks, vive la France." Grantaire spoke with sarcasm; she loved his disdain for what he fought for.

The two of them manoeuvred the barrel into the barracks and she returned to make another trip up the stairs when she caught sight of a morose looking person sulking his way back into the barricade.

"Marius!" She gasped with a smile, hurrying over to him as though her life finally was complete.

"Éponine?" He whispered, confused. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous." He told her, as if she didn't already know.

"Got nowhere better to be." She grinned. "So I'm becoming one of the boys, I'd rather spend my time with you."

"This is no place for a girl Éponine, you could die here."

"Could die out there too," she shrugged. "I'd rather die fighting alongside you."

Her words didn't seem to reach him as he sighed and turned to her with a pessimistic tone.

"I don't know what I'm going to do if I never see her again 'ponine." he stressed. "Cosette has touched my life in a way I never thought another person could, she's all I can think about, I see her face when I close my eyes, I smell her perfume with each inhalation, and yet I feel as though no air reaches my lungs when she isn't near." he was lost in a world of feelings and emotions, the same kind she had prayed one day he would feel for her; hearing those words tumble from his lips was like someone was slowly clenching their fist around her heart, bruising it and choking it little by little until there was nothing left to beat, nothing left to fight for.

"Wait, I have an idea, 'ponine, you have to do this for me, you have to take her this letter before she vanishes," He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a cream rectangle of parchment, folded in half with a name scrawled in the most beautiful penmanship she had ever seen. "It's for her, it tells her everything, it tells her how I cannot live without her now I know she exists in this world, it tells her how I will find her, at any cost, so that we may be together, always." He thrust the paper into her hand and folded her fingers over it, having his soft skin touch hers was an agonising feeling, she wanted it so badly, revelled in the tingle his skin left on hers, and yet she knew his touch would be short lived, and where it meant everything to her, it hadn't meant a single thing to him. "Take it to her for me 'ponine, please?" he begged. "You're the only one who can do it, the only one I trust, I can't leave this barricade now, but you can, she needs to know how I feel, you have to tell her." The tone of his voice was so desperate that she felt pleased that for just a moment he could feel what it was to be her, to spend every waking moment wishing for something, for someone you could never have. She wanted to tell him no, she wanted to make him understand the pain of what losing something so close to your grasp could feel like; and yet, she was Éponine, she was his errand girl and if he asked her to walk bare foot across the entire vast landscape of France, she'd do it because he was the one to ask.

She clenched her fingers around the parchment and tucked into her jacket.

"Alright," she nodded. "I'll do it."

She felt his strong hands wrap around her forearms as he pulled her forwards and embraced her. She felt her heart literally miss a beat as her body melted to his as she stood with her arms by her side, too stunned to begin to hug him back. By the time she had caught her breath to do so, he was letting her free.

"You are my angel 'ponine." he exclaimed, hurrying back to the front line of the barricade, leaving her standing cold and empty on the street.

She ambled back to the barricade, as much as she longed to be back at Marius' side, she also hated to return to have to deliver him the word of the girl he had lost his heart to. For so long she had tried to make him hers, she had looked out for him, done everything he asked of her, she had shared her life and bared her soul for him and all she asked in return was that he would love her the way she did him, but she got nothing of the sort. Cosette, she had stolen whatever part of Marius she had never managed to awaken and there was no chance of her ever getting it back. Cosette's father had taken Marius' note with the promise to pass it on to his daughter, but Éponine knew that the girl felt the same way as Marius, there was a love there that was untouchable. How was she meant to go back and tell him that while Cosette was leaving for a safer place, she would hold him in her heart and wait for news that he had survived this revolution?

* * *

The sound of the artillery could be heard while she was still streets away from the barricade. The police had drawn in and soon enough the first blood would be shed; she just hoped it wasn't the blood of any of her friends.

She picked up her pace, knowing she had to reach that barricade, she had people to protect, people to keep safe. Her life was worth nothing, she was worth nothing, her father had told her that from when she was young, and if life on the streets had done nothing else, it had reinforced that he had been right. She would be willing to lay down her life if that meant saving one of those boys; they had such spirit, such heart, what they possessed in one grain of their being was worth more than anything she might ever accomplish.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to all the people who have follwed this story; I am really touched as I did not expect it to get much attention! This is a fairly short chapter; there will be more Enjolras coming after this chapter, once you read it you'll see why it needed to go by itself! Enjoy! **

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The bare soles of her feet pounded against the cold, damp streets, but she powered on, her breath sharp and stinging as she drew air into her lungs.

A sense of panic filled her being as she heard the rumble of cannons edging through the Paris streets. She was still so far away and yet something nagged at her core; something bad was happening, or was about to happen and it was up to her to prevent it. As though nothing in her life had ever mattered as much as this, she pushed herself forward, careering through the empty streets, wary of the curious eyes that watched her from the safety of the buildings, wondering why a young boy was heading toward the danger and not away from it. She couldn't let herself get distracted by the odd voices that called out, offering her a safe haven to wait out this revolution, instead she tuned them out, listening only to the heaving breaths that escaped her mouth and the pounding of the blood as it rushed through her heart and her head.

She heard the first deafening blast of a cannon as she rounded the street less than a minute away from where the barricade stood. The sense of urgency grew within her and she picked up her pace in a way she didn't know she could. The sound of gunfire echoed around the buildings as she drew closer and when that gunfire became indistinguishable from one another, she knew the artillery was fighting back with more than just cannons. She took a side turn down a narrow alleyway between two tall buildings that she knew would lead her to the side of the barricade. She could taste the copper of blood at the back of her throat but it didn't slow her pace. She felt sharpness puncture her skin as she stepped onto the splintered edge of a fractured chair leg. She felt the hot, sticky ooze of blood escaping her foot but paid no attention to the pain that followed; she did not have time for that now.

The sound of more cannon fire shook the very ground beneath her feet, and as she got to the edge of the building, she slowed her steps to look out before running right into the line of gun fire. All of the men stood behind the barricade, several of them were holding guns, a chain of men stood behind them ready to take the spent weapon and replace it with one they had prepped with more gunpowder. It took her a few desperate moments of scanning to lock eyes on Marius. There he was, right at the front of the barricade, like she knew he would be. He had a bravery second only to Enjolras, though where Enjolras had a martyr complex about him, Marius wanted more than death for his cause. She watched as someone handed Marius a weapon but he declined to take it; he was too considerate of the lives of others, after all, it was life that he was fighting for. It didn't matter that those men were going to take their lives, Marius was not going to retaliate in that way; and it was that realisation that made her love him just that little bit more. She saw Marius stand to move away from the front line, if he was not willing to fire a gun at his enemies there were plenty of willing men to take his place. As he stood Éponine found her eyes drawn to the gap in the barricade. The gap that from the inside had appeared miniscule, but standing here, removed from the situation, she could see it was the ideal target. She saw the artillery officer lining up his aim and that was when everything began to move in slow motion. She became aware of her body hurtling forwards once again, she became aware of the look of utter shock and horror on his face when the sound of the gun fired toward that hole, but she also became aware of the small boy scampering across the top of the barricade as if this were all just a fun game. In that moment she had a choice to make. She could only save one. Her heart swelled as her head took over and made the decision for her. She reached out and grabbed the small boy by the jacket, heaving his body down from the barricade to crash to the ground behind their safety barrier. A plume of dust spattered around them as she and Gavroche lay in the filth coated street, the sound of that bullet shot at him speeding through the air overhead. And then, just milliseconds later came that secondary crash. The next plume of dust as another body hit the ground; it was Marius who had fallen.

Her first instinct was to check on Gavroche, but she could tell from the coughing that he was fine. She pulled herself upright, ignoring the pain that shot through her, and scurried over to Marius. Already a dark and sticky crimson liquid was running from his shirt into the dusty street below. Most of the men seemed not to notice as they continued their attack, but two of them lifted Marius, deaf to the groans and huffs that escaped his lips at their movement. With one man taking his arms and the other his legs, they manoeuvred him to the doorway that Éponine had slept in just hours earlier, before they hurried back to the action.

Éponine hurried over to the doorway, protected from the line of fire, she felt tears begin to well inside of her, but she pushed them away; if he saw she was upset, he would believe that this was something he could not recover from. She traced the trail of blood that led the way to his new position and threw herself down beside him, on her knees.

"Marius! Marius!" she gasped, pushing his hair away from his forehead, feeling a cold sweat that had already formed against his skin. She could see the injury instantly. A huge hole had been blown in his side, blood was seeping out of him at an alarming rate, the smell of copper lingered in the air, and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew his time left amounted to nothing more than minutes.

"'ponine!" he smiled, and in that look, everything she had ever wanted from him came true. He looked at her with happiness, genuine happiness and delight; he cared that she was there and that was all she had needed from him to make her life finally feel worth something. "Did you find her?" he asked, his voice strained, broken. And that was the comment that detached her very soul from her heart; the knowledge that even in his dying moments, to have his friend close by was not the comfort he wanted, what he cared about was the other girl he had her chasing down.

"I found her." She sighed, finding it hard to halt the tears that formed in her eyes.

"What did she say?" He asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, but a very evident tinge of hope laced to it.

Éponine pondered her response for a moment; technically speaking, she had not spoken to Cosette, she could tell him so and leave him wondering what it was he meant to her, she could leave him feeling the way she did every single day, she could make him understand, if only for the briefest moment what it was to want something as badly as she did, and know that it was never going to happen. But she was not that person. She loved him whether he loved her back or not, and that meant she would do whatever it took to ensure that however long he had left on this Earth was filled with only happiness.

"She said she loved you too." She confessed, her heart literally aching at the words. She saw the relief in his eyes, the flash of tooth as he smiled and she knew she had done the right thing for him; that was what love was about in the end, making sure the other person felt like they were the most important, despite the effect that had on your own feelings. She heard the footsteps approaching behind her; she'd have known them anywhere, it was Gavroche. He stopped behind her and watched on as she leant over Marius and took his bloodied hand in hers. "She said she'd wait for you, forever if she had to." Éponine lied.

"You have to find her; you have to tell her what became of me." He struggled to speak. "I cannot let her live her life thinking I did not care enough to find her." He heaved in a breath that bubbled with the blood beginning to wind its way into his throat. "Promise me 'ponine."

"I promise." She confessed, a tear sliding down her cheek and splashing on to the tri-coloured floret that fastened to his blazer.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner." She sighed, brushing her fingers against his cheek.

"You got here in time." He sputtered with a smile, blood starting to trickle down the side of his mouth. "Loyal 'ponine, always waiting in the shadows, you are a good friend, I want you to know that I…" his eyes bulged as he choked on his own blood. She frantically tried to turn him over to clear his airway but it was to no avail. His body fell limp and his grip of her hand dropped away; he was gone, all of his suffering ended as the light in his eyes slowly died out.

"No, Marius, no!" she shook his body with vigour. "Marius?! Marius!" she spat, hearing the sound of gun fire behind her like an army salute. "Marius, please, please, don't go, I need you!" she wept, letting the tears flow freely down her face. "I love you Marius, I've always loved you… I am here for you… I was the one who stayed…" her voice was now broken, her words seeping out between sobs. "I would have given you anything, everything… if only you could have seen me…" there was so much she felt like she needed him to know now, so much she wanted him to hear despite knowing it was now futile. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you…" she confessed, leaning over onto his body and letting his clothes absorb the tears and the pain that fell from her face. She became aware of a deep primal scream that escaped her body, and while the sound of gun and cannon fire drowned her out, she would not have cared if the others had heard her.

That was when she felt the tiny hand on her shoulder; his tiny hand trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry you 'ad to choose." He whispered, emotion in his voice, alerting her to the silent tears that were gracing his own cheeks.

She turned around and held out her arms, feeling Gavroche's little body crumple against hers as the two of them sobbed into each other.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't long before more bodies began to pile up in the doorway; more tragic victims of a cause too big for them to tackle alone. Nobody seemed to notice or care about the "boy" who was weeping over his fallen friend so openly; nobody even bothered to ask him why he had all but abandoned the revolution for this one fallen comrade. If they had, what would she have said? That there was no point fighting a revolution when he wouldn't be around to see the other side? That the revolution had never been something she believed could happen? As a wash of fresh, hot tears streamed down her face, she suddenly felt herself overcome with the greatest sense of anger. She drove her fist into his side, feeling Gavroche tugging at her to stop.

"I hate you!" she shouted, her voice barely carrying over the artillery. "I hate you for never seeing me, for never acknowledging me, for never wanting anything more than what we had. But I hate you more for leaving me, for leaving me to fight this battle that I don't even think you truly believed in!" she shook his lifeless body, watching as the blood that had pooled beneath him was given its moment of reprieve and flowed free from his body to the pavement behind her. As his neck flexed backwards she caught a glimpse of those blue eyes, the ones she had longed to lose herself in for so long; and just as quickly as it had begun, her anger subsided into nothing. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and pressed her fingertips to his cheek.

"But I'll fight this for you," she whispered. "I won't let you die without cause, I'll keep this going and I will make sure we get what you so desperately wanted." She tucked the collar of his shirt over the edge of his jacket and leant down to press her lips to his forehead; he was still warm to touch, in so many ways he looked like he was sleeping, the way he had done so many times before; only she knew that this time those eyes would never light up again, those eyes would never look at her like a friend, or anything else.

She pushed herself to her feet turned around to face Gavroche who looked at her with caution.

"Go load up another gun." She spoke with command and urgency, and just like that, the boy scampered away to the back of the barricade, where the other members of the party were plugging gunpowder into weapons.

* * *

She found her way to the front of the barricade, space fighting amongst the brave was not the squeeze it would have been just moments earlier; too many had already fallen foul of the artillery. She took a spot alongside Enjolras, she could smell the sweat that dripped from his body and she watched as he smeared a smudge of gunpowder across his cheek with the back of his hand.

"They'll give up soon enough," he commented as a gun was thrust into her hands and she lined it up, resting it on the barricade for support. "When they see we aren't going to back down." There was a blind optimism to his eyes but already a level of uncertainty lingered in his voice.

She aimed her gun at nowhere in particular, truth be told, she did not want to take another's life; each man out there was someone else's Marius, and yet, they had spared not a single thought for each life they stole so early from this earth. She made herself a promise then; that she would not aim for any one man, but if her bullet were to strike another, she would not let it gnaw away at her the way it otherwise might have done.

"There are so many of them m'sieur." She admitted, pulling the trigger of her weapon and feeling the recoil of her body and temporary deafness as she was pushed back from the barricade.

"We have the fighting spirit a hundred times theirs, Nicolas." He laughed. "Do not forget that!" He shot another round and jeered as a body crumpled out amongst the men who cared little about freedom.

The ground rumbled underfoot as another cannon ball fired into the barricade, Éponine tumbled against Enjolras; he dropped his weapon to catch her as she fell; two men beside them falling under the hail of bullets that reigned after the cannon.

"Thank you m'sieur." She smiled as he helped her back to her feet.

"You are bleeding… _Nicolas_." He spoke, her name forming oddly on his lips; his eyes fixing on her in a peculiar stance. She followed the path of his gaze to her foot, she had all but forgotten the splinter embedded in her sole, but her fall had reopened the wound and her own crimson blood was trickling through the gaps in the cobbled streets.

"So are you." She replied, brushing a streak of blood from his hairline with her thumb. She noted the way he closed his eyes, almost in bliss, at her touch, allowing himself just that one moment to feel something, before he snapped back into his normal fighting form.

"I didn't even feel it. That is what adrenaline does to you." He boasted, setting her back upright and reaching down for his dropped weapon.

"Is it adrenaline that stopped you from caring about your fallen friend?" she asked, wishing the words had come out sounding better than they had. She saw the way his hand faltered as it hovered over his gun; he hesitated before he picked it up again. Slinging its butt over his shoulder, he realigned himself against the wall of the barricade and took a shot, letting his body shudder under the force of the explosion.

She watched him lick his lips, imagined him tasting the salt of his own sweat, mixed with the grime of the streets. His eyes furrowed as though deep in thought.

"I do care." He confessed, not looking at her, as she lifted her own gun, and he swapped out his with a newly loaded one. "I just do not have the time right now to fall apart." He added.

"I didn't mean it the way-"

"No, it's alright, you did mean it, and it's ok." He admitted, manoeuvring his weapon into a gap in the barricade while dodging a bullet that just grazed his right arm as it perforated through the barricade.

The other men, they were growing weaker now, their fighting spirit had dwindled as their numbers did too; watching the bodies of their comrades build up meant it was hard to keep on believing that this small number of revolutionaries was going to bring down an entire army.

"I know what they say about me," he huffed as he took a shot and watched a soldier tumble to the streets of Paris. "That I feel nothing but the passion of revolution and the burning hatred of inequality." He turned to her and looked her in the eyes as she stepped back to her position and rested her gun. "In so many ways they are right." He looked to the side at the pile of bodies, knowing Marius was the one buried at the heart of them all. "The reason I am fighting this battle is because I want a better life for everyone, not just for me." He grabbed a new gun and on instinct lined it up and took another shot. "Everyone includes these men, the ones I call my friends. I care about them more than anyone will understand, but I have a revolution to front, if I break down, I cannot expect my men to carry on; they look to me as their leader and I have a duty to act like one. I may not break down at every fallen man behind this barricade as it happens, but believe me when I tell you it is only because I have shut that part of me off temporarily, when we win this revolution, assuming I have not become a casualty myself, I will feel it all then, and I will pay for ignoring it now. They may believe what they want to about me, but I am as human as the rest of them and my heart will bleed for Marius when the time is right." And with that, he turned his attention back to the barricade and proceeded to take his shots at the army that just seemed to keep on growing.


	4. Chapter 4

The more shots she took the more guilt she began to feel; watching the bodies of the people in the barricade mount up was heart breaking, she imagined the people on the other side had to be feeling the same about their own. Time seemed to be at a standstill. Between all the shooting, the cannons and the fallen, the day seemed to be passing both quickly and slowly all at the same time. The numbers behind the barricade were fast dwindling, the number of people whose names she knew was down to a handful; the more she shot the more she realized that they were never going to win this revolution, not this way.

"Enjolras, our ammo is depleting fast!" sounded the panicked voice of a young man at the back of the barricade.

"Then get us more!" Enjolras shouted back, a tone of finality in his voice.

Aside from the sound of gunfire and cannons, the barricade fell silent; to embark upon an ammo retrieval mission was surely to embark upon certain suicide; nobody wanted that mission as their own. But, sure enough, the sound of creaking wood and the groan of the general structure of the barricade indicated to someone willing to take on the task. Éponine pushed her body closer to the barricade so she could get a look at which man had opted to give up his life for a greater cause. When finally the brave soul emerged she gasped as she saw who it was. Standing outside the barricade, exposed to the tirade of reigning bullets and cannons was Gavroche; her brother.

"Gavroche!" she shouted, but the boy did not turn away. Instead he moved with care and delicacy, as though dancing, from body to body, picking up unspent ammo and stuffing it into the pocket of his ratty old blue jacket.

The French army stood in utter disbelief, staring at the child so naïve and innocent as to walk out before an entire army with nothing to use as protection. A collective sinking of guns occurred across the entire front line as each man lowered his weapon in disbelief and perhaps even, respect.

Her heart lurched as she attempted to climb the barricade to bring him back. But the splinter in her foot made her falter and stumble and she found herself in a heap at the bottom before she could even reach the top.

"Not so brave when you can see ya target huh?!" Gavroche jeered, picking up a bullet from a fallen army soldier and tossing it into the air to let the glint from the sun shimmer before the men. "Don't underestimate the li'le people, we might be few but we are strong."

"Gavroche, get back in here now!" One of the others shouted to him. But Gavroche simply turned and gave a nod to the barricade before continuing on his self-elected mission. He had cheated death once already today, who was to say he couldn't do it again?

As Éponine tried to pull herself back upright, she felt her heart leap into her throat when she saw what he was doing; Enjolras was climbing the barricade.

"Enjolras!" Grantaire shouted. "Come down, come back!" he called out.

"Gavroche!" Came the voice of another; a voice she recognised as Courfeyrac; a man who loved her brother as if he was his own. "Gavroche, get back here now!" he demanded; but neither of the boys listened.

Enjolras lowered himself over the barricade; knowing he was risking certain death in doing so; and yet he couldn't sit back and watch the youngster embark on such a dangerous mission without back up. He, alongside the rest of the barricade, watched as every man of the artillery raised their weapon to eye level again, ready to take their shot at the man who had incited the revolution; ready to render this barricade leaderless.

"There's one over there Gavroche." Enjolras commented, pointing to a bullet not five yards from his own feet. "I'll grab these few and then that'll do us." He lied. All he wanted was to get the boy to safety, if Gavroche lost his life in the name of Enjolras, he was sure his life would be unforgivably bleak and worthless; to let a child die for you was the greatest form of cowardice.

"But Enjolras, there are more out here." Gavroche rebutted.

"We'll make do." Enjolras spoke in a tone that signalled a definite end to the matter.

The small boy picked up the bullet and held out an opened hand to show his idol the 8 unspent bullets he had retrieved. "You look after them." Enjolras spoke, placing the three he had picked up himself into the breast pocket of the boy's worn jacket. "You'll be the new ammo man." He smiled. Gavroche grinned in delight at his new found importance. "Come on, get back in the barricade." He ordered. He wrapped his hand across the shoulders of the young boy, knowing full well the second Gavroche was clear he was going to become an open target. He heard the sound of the army preparing their guns and silently held his breath; for these last few seconds utter peace had descended upon the Paris streets, and just as quickly as it had begun, it was soon to be shattered as his impending death screamed in his ears. He lifted Gavroche up and boosted him over the barricade to the waiting arms of Courfeyrac, and the welcome sigh of relief from Éponine.

"Get down!" he yelled to his remaining comrades as he leapt and grabbed hold of the top of the barricade.

As he pulled his body up a hail of ammo sounded off as bullets flew at the barricade at an alarming speed. The first one hit his calf, tore right through the muscle. He felt the searing pain but still he dragged his body toward the top. The second bullet grazed his shoulder, the third embedding itself in his side. For an entire army, it seemed their aim on one man was not what it should have been; he ought to have been a pin cushion by now; that fact brought a smile to his face as he continued to claw his way back to the other side of the barricade.

He just about made it to the top, the sound of the barricade groaning underneath him as each bullet burst through the other side. As his body manoeuvred uneasily, a final reign of heavy fire sounded off, with three bullets working their way through his back and sending his body plummeting to the dusty street floor. Five other men fell as the hail of ammo splinted through the wood, but she only cared about one.

"Enjolras!" she called out, pulling her body across the ground, grateful that he had warned of the barrage of bullets about the shower them. "Enjolras, are you…?" her voice trailed off; of course he was not ok. She sat alongside him and carefully turned over his body, hiding the holes that penetrated his back and revealing his face; still defiant and strong despite what he must have been feeling. The man gave a gentle cough, his eyes scrunched in pain and yet he did not make as much as a groan. "What you did out there… it was truly nothing short of heroic." She spoke.

"No Nicolas, what _you_ did was heroic…" his throat gurgled as he spit blood down his cheek. "I just followed your lead." He smiled. "This barricade is a better place with you in it." He confessed. Courfeyrac, Gavroche and Grantaire gathered around the body of their dying leader as the last few men fought back with the only ammunition they had left.

"There is something I need to tell you." Éponine admitted, wanting to come clean with Enjolras before he left the world.

"I already know." He spoke, struggling to raise a shaking arm; weakened, bloodied but determined. He clenched his shivering fingers to the peak of her cap and removed it, letting her long brown hair tumble around her face. A gasp escaped the unsuspecting Grantaire's lips and Courfeyrac simply bowed his head. "The girl nobody saw…" his breathing was laboured now, his words no more than a whisper. "Marius' shadow." He smiled. "You thought we didn't see you… you though we didn't care…" more blood sputtered from his mouth as he wretched and she settled his head in her lap, rubbing her thumbs tenderly across his temples. Even with blood across his teeth and seeping down his mouth, he was still managing to die in a gallant manner. "I saw you…" he admitted. "I always saw you. You were too good for him… for Marius… you deserved so much more than he could give you…" the rasps were coming thick and fast, the end was near for him. She felt her eyes welling up at his words, never had anyone spoken such kindness to her and truly meant it. But she would not allow the tears to fall; she would not allow him to see her break down. "You need to get away from here…" he spoke. "Éponine… you are worth more than the loss of life for a cause we have no chance of winning now… take him and go." He touched a finger to Gavroche who had so many tears pouring down his cheeks that they left trails in the filth and grime etched to his skin. "You deserve a better life… find one where you can… find the person who deserves your…" and before his sentence could be finished, his final breath left his body in a defiant rasp and gurgle, his chest grew heavy and every muscle inside of him relaxed, leaving him nothing but a dead weight atop her legs.

Éponine sat with him for a brief few moments, stroking the hair atop his head in a way she was sure nobody had ever done for him, even as a child. She hoped he would feel her touch and that it would bring him comfort on his journey to wherever it was he was heading. Taking a lead from his earlier words, she held in the emotion that threatened to escape her; she would grieve for him later, for the freedom he'd never know, the life he'd never win the fight for. She brought her fingers to her lips and pressed a delicate kiss to the tips; resting it lightly against his soft lips, marred with his crimson blood, she prayed he'd know how much he had touched her life with those few words he had shared with her.

The bullets were still sounding, the cannons still rolling, a glance around the rest of the barricade revealed that they, and a total of three men whose names she did not know, the only ones left.

"We have to surrender or give ourselves up." Courfeyrac spoke. "We do not stand a chance against them; there are so many of them."

"Enjolras would never give up, 'e'd die fightin' and you know it!" Gavroche protested, wiping the tears from his eyes. "We could'a won this if 'e hadn't got shot, we'd'a dun it, I just know it!"

"We never stood a chance little Gavroche, he was an optimistic man, perhaps too optimistic for his own good." He looked around at all the fallen children of the barricade, so many lives, so much blood shed into the streets; the sheer magnitude of it all did not bare thinking about. "Too many lives have been wasted here today, yours will not be another." He spoke to the boy. "Take him; take him far away from here." He spoke to Éponine. "It is not worth loosing someone so young."

"You ain't the boss of me, I can do wha' I want and I wanna stay!" he had such a determination in is voice, an anger and drive behind his eyes that he almost looked like a young Enjolras himself.

"We do not have to surrender." Éponine spoke.

Each man looked at her. "We run." She spoke.

"Like cowards?!" Grantaire spat. "Enjolras would never stand for that!"

"No," she defended. "We leave and we hide. We re-group, and re-form. We make them think they have won and then when they are not suspecting it, we come back stronger, more prepared, with better weapons, with a stronger cohort. We _will_ win this revolution and we will do it for him." She looked down at the leader who was resting eternally on her lap.

Courfeyrac and Grantaire looked to one another; they had known Enjolras best, they knew what this revolution meant to him, and yet there was something distinctly appealing about her idea; something distinctly Enjolras about it.

"It could work." Grantaire though aloud. "We could do it?"

Courfeyrac nodded. She had a plan there. A plan that potentially could work. Unlike Enjolras who rushed into things with the raw passion and drive that he held, Éponine was showing herself to be more thoughtful, more calculated; with her they just might stand a chance.

"I'm in." Courfeyrac spoke.

"Me too." Grantaire added.

"Alright…" Gavroche sighed. "For Enjolras."

"For Enjolras." Éponine repeated. The four of them looked at one another unsure what the future held.

"I'll get the others." Courfeyrac spoke, cautiously standing.

"Grantaire, can you find all of the alcohol left in the barricade?" Éponine spoke.

"Right, we'll need that to take with us." He nodded.

"No, I have something else in mind for it." She said, easing her body from beneath Enjolras' head.

It took little convincing to get the other three men to join them, they had not wanted to die for this cause in a way they suspected nobody besides Enjolras did.

Éponine made light work of stockpiling the guns and remaining sparse ammo; they'd need to take it all with them. The sound of gunfire from behind enemy lines was drawing more and more sparse; with few shots being fired back, they knew they were close to ending this. Grantaire returned with four bottles of alcohol and offered up the dregs remaining in his own flask. He handed the bottles to Éponine and licked his lips in delight as she uncorked the first bottle. She tossed the cork aside and tipped the bottle upside down, draining the liquid onto Enjolras' blood-stained body. Grantaire gasped and snatched the other bottles from her feet as she did so.

"What are you doing?!" he spat. "You are wasting precious supplies!"

"I'm giving him the burial he will otherwise be denied. I am burning him with his barricade." She spoke.

"It's what he would want." Courfeyrac admitted in sorrowful solidarity.

Gavroche followed the plan and scurried away to find a match.

"All they will find in the ashes are the bodies of the fallen." Éponine spoke. "Nobody will be looking for us."

Grantaire sighed, but offered up the remaining bottles without fight.

"Splash one across the barricade." She ordered. "It'll help it catch, once it starts it'll burn long and it'll burn hard. They will take so long to put it out we can be miles away."

Courfeyrac saw the brokenness of his face and took the bottle from his friend, freeing him from any guilt he would be burdened with for emptying the alcohol anywhere other than his mouth.

When the last drop was drained from the bottle, the remaining Les Amis, the barricade survivors, each picked up a weapon and moved to the side of the barricade, the side Éponine had gotten in to from the alley. Gavroche handed Éponine the match and she struck it against the side of the building. Stepping forward, she leant down and picked up her hat before tossing the match onto Enjolras' body and watching as it quickly ignited into a bright mirage of flames. His body burnt the brightest of all the men close to the edge of the barricade; he was, in death, just as he was in life, the person who held the most fire in his heart. The seven of them did not wait to watch the flames spread. They knew it would happen soon enough and they knew the army would count themselves victorious. They might have won this battle but the war was only just beginning. Enjolras had given them a voice, a purpose, and they would fight to honour that voice. They would be back; that much was certain, and when they were, they would be stronger than ever; this revolution was theirs for the taking, they just had to get a plan ready.

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to just take the time to say thank you to everyone that read/followed/favourited/reviewed this. It was completely different to the idea I first started out writing. What was originally going to be a full on E/É fic ended up a lot more subtle and tragic than I intended; I like to think had the characters lived in the original, they'd have found a kind of kindred spirit shared between the two of them. That was the idea I was tapping into when writing this. More than anything, I hope you enjoyed reading it. **


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